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My thoughts move slow through the situation. I shift my perspective. I organize details. I think it into a narrative, and this helps me to remember. I've never been one to memorize facts and figures, but tell me a story and I am all ears.

As a girl I would sit near the back of our mostly empty church on a hard wooden pew. My sister and I would play tic-tac-toe or practice sign language alphabet. Our dad would stand behind the pulpit preaching an inspired word, and when I sensed he was going into a story I would pay him all the attention he deserved.

Jesus spoke in stories. He knew how to draw people in. He knew how to get them to listen. They didn't always understand the point he was trying to get across, but I imagine they did what I do. They moved through the story, assigned faces to the figures, identified with the feelings and remembered.

This story began in October of last year. My running man was preparing to finish another marathon on one of his favorite cou…